


Frosting

by sassy_pelican



Series: Bucky Barnes One-Shots [18]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_pelican/pseuds/sassy_pelican
Summary: Baking and Bucky do not mix. “That frosting really brings out your eyes.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Bucky Barnes One-Shots [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149938
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Frosting

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone else ever stumble upon one of their own fic and decide, what the hell imma read it? Well I do and did and then this happened. Anyway, enjoy. This is lightly edited (and by lightly I mean I skimmed over it)

It was shower time for you, and having neglected to take one in … well longer than you care to admit, you decided to pamper yourself and do  _ everything _ \- shave, exfoliate, the whole nine yards. Which meant Bucky had to entertain himself for a while. And a supersoldier used to being on the go all the time now in quarantine, amusing himself can get messy. 

It wasn’t that he intended to make a mess, oh no. His heart was pure and intentions good. But Bucky and baking isn’t the best combination on a good day, with supervision. 

Bucky was ecstatic the days that Steve and Sam (or as you dubbed them, Cap and Cap 2.0) stopped by, even if they sat at the other end of the room and you would spray lysol everywhere for five minutes after they left. It gave him something to do. He wasn’t meant to sit around and do nothing for this long. 

He enjoyed his down time as much as anyone, especially after a hard day, week, or month. He just wasn’t one of those people that enjoyed down time months on end. You on the other hand, you got to leave the house. 

You had a job at a coffee shop a block over, and while you went to work in what Bucky lovingly called your hazmat suit and quite obviously hated every second, he was envious. He likely wouldn’t be affected by the virus anyway, serum and all but you insisted he take all the precautions you were. As much as he hated wearing a mask - too many memories of days long past - he wore one. At first it was because you stood in front of the door and wouldn’t budge until he put it on, even went as far as to threaten to tape it to his face, but then it just became routine. 

Now though, now he had a different problem. Now was wishing that he was wearing a mask, and the entire kitchen a hazmat suit. He honestly didn’t know where it went wrong. When it came to cooking, it wasn’t half bad, although you wouldn’t let him make food for a party. Baking was a completely different matter. 

Flour was everywhere. Chocolate powder was everywhere. He had egg on his toes. Bucky was fairly certain that frosting was his hair but he didn’t dare bring his hands up to find out. And the cake wasn’t even edible. The best thing he can think of is that he misread teaspoon for tablespoon and put too much baking powder in, because even he - who didn’t know what the hell baking powder tasted like - could taste it. 

To make matters worse, you just got out of the shower, fresh and clean. All pretty, just for him, at least he likes to think so. He could hear you start to move around the bathroom, your after shower routine in motion, which meant he had about ten minutes before you walked out and saw this monstrosity. 

“Shit,” he says. “Fucking shit.”

Bucky threw your apron with the ducks on it off and started cleaning like a mad man. Cake, trash. Flour and chocolate powder, wiped up and scrubbed. Frosting, cleared. Every surface was nearly spotless by the time he heard the door open. Then he saw it, the disgusting apron on the counter. Eyes wide, he grabs it and shoves it behind his back, doing his best to look inconspicuous as you walk in. 

You don’t say anything when you see the kitchen, much cleaner than you remember, and a Bucky that wasn’t there before standing very conspicuously in the center of it. It takes everything in you not to laugh until you cry at the frosting in his hair and on his face and his expression. He may have been a feared Hydra soldier at one point, but now he couldn’t lie for shit. 

Bucky looked exactly like a kid that got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. He even had that not-so-innocent smile that all little boys do when you come into the room and see them covered in marker. 

“Whatcha been up to?” you ask, biting your lip to suppress a laugh. 

“Just cleaned the kitchen,” he replies. 

“Was that before or after you did something bad?’

“I didn’t do anything,” he says, eyes darting all over the place. 

“Oh really?” you ask. “Because that frosting really brings out your eyes.”

“Oh shit, fuck, fuckidy, fuck fuck!” 

At that you can’t contain it anymore, you double over laughing. It doesn’t take long before your stomach muscles ache and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

“I tried to bake a cake,” Bucky says meekly. “It wasn’t edible.”

“Oh honey,” you say, still slightly laughing but trying not to once you see his hurt expression. “I’m not mad. You cleaned it up. But maybe next time, don’t try and make a cake, okay?”

“Alright,” he condeeds. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” you reply. “Frosting the Metal Man.”


End file.
